Lately I have taken an interest in genealogy. For those who didn’t stay long in school, it is a branch of science that traces family lineage and the ancestry of individuals.
Back in the past, only royalty could afford to indulge in genealogy. This was in order to determine issues such as succession and, of course, exclusion.
But in recent years, anyone can trace their origins and create a family tree which shows their kinship to relatives, dead and alive. With genealogy, you can go back hundreds of years in history and be able to tell whether you are descended from the most notorious cattle thief or the most upright citizen in the community. Genealogy is not for the faint hearted because all too often it can spring up shock findings that could haunt you.
I mean what if studies revealed some of your ancestors were burnt to death after a village tribunal found them guilty of witchcraft. Anyway, for the past couple of months I have been attracting curious looks from many people.
I am just a regular guy with ordinary looks who does not stand out in a crowd. Initially, just a few people would stare. The frequency of the stares has grown during the course of this year. I am a law abiding citizen and have never appeared on any wanted poster.
I am not a celebrity.
I have never seen myself on television, nor in any newspaper. I don’t spot a gold false tooth. I don’t have any scars from bar room brawls, both lost and won. Neither do I steal other men’s wives. But the staring and furtive nudges whenever people saw me eventually got on my nerves. Even my friends started looking at me in a funny way. And that is not to mention my own mother.
There was no way so many people could stare at me without the issue coming out. Eventually I got to know why I, an unremarkable looking bloke, has been drawing the stares. Apparently, many people think I look like Barack Obama. Yep the black chap who will be running for president of the greatest nation ever established. Like I say, I always thought myself as unremarkable. That being the case I don’t spend time in front of the mirror admiring my looks. I asked a few of my friends if indeed I resemble Obama, and without exception all of them answered in the affirmative.
That is when I decided to do this genealogy thing. I mean I could have walked around enjoying my new found fame as an Obama look-alike; but to what end? Okay before I went for the genealogy test, I took a long hard look at myself in the mirror. I had to admit there was a strong resemblance.
Granted, having lived here for my entire life, my complexion is of a darker hue. But I could easily see that a few days in America eating nice food and basking in the cool weather would have me as light complexioned as Obama. Heck, there are many areas of similarity.
For instance my eyes are just like Obama’s. The lips are Obama’s. The biggest giveaway are the ears. Protruding from the sides, I look as if I am about to fly. Exactly like Obama. I am also quite tall and lean. Just like the man.
Apparently, I also wear the same smashing grin that says vote for me. I am not easily excited. Hence the test which revealed that I am Obama’s distant cousin.
Genealogy works in funny ways. One could be a distant relative and, as in my case, bear the most striking resemblance to the subject.
Having confirmed that I am indeed Obama’s cousin, I don’t know what next. I mean during the course of this week my ratings soared after the party convention. Almost everyone stares at me. Some of the women who would never have given me a second glance before my cousin Obama arrived in their sitting rooms are even smiling at me.
The kids never used to notice. But I have heard one or two asking their parents if I am the man they saw on television. I am a walking piece of curiosity. My mates have suggested I mail Obama my picture together with the genealogy findings and ask for some money. Not a bad idea. After all, that is what all Africans do when they chance upon a well off relative.
But I don’t want any money from the man. I mean we must consider that he also has many poor folks in Kenya. Truly speaking, and compared to me, some of those so called cousins are outright fraudsters without any physical resemblance to Obama.
But here I am walking around as a blood cousin to the next president of America. And that is my biggest problem.
Will Obama win? I am worried for my cousin. So far, he seems to be doing well. Just look at the huge crowd he packed into the stadium a few days ago. There is Obama mania all over the place. But is it enough to take my cousin to the White House?
Many locals think victory is a foregone conclusion – just like all black people the world over. And that is the problem with black people. The moment they see one of their own achieving success, they all want to claim a piece of him. I mean, my people don’t even want to consider the prospect of an Obama defeat. To them an Obama victory means he will be visiting the continent on a regular basis. And we all know that such visits mean lots of cattle being slaughtered for endless feasting. To them Obama is a ticket to lots of meat.
My worry is Obama’s wife.
You see, America is a country of mainly white people. I don’t want to get into the politics of who they enslaved or defeated. Like it or not, they are the owners of that place. Other races, such as blacks, can always return to Africa if they wish. But the whites see America as their home. The question is what to do to convince them to all vote for my cousin.
I think there is a simple way for Obama to sew up the contest. None of his advisers would dare say it. No one wants to say it. Like I say, the problem is the wife. Don’t get me wrong. She is pretty and smart. In fact, were she not my cousin’s wife I wouldn’t mind having fun with her.
But it’s not too late.
You see, for Obama to ensure victory, he must divorce the black woman and get himself a white wife. Pure and simple. It would get all the doubting whites to his side and into that famous residence in Washington. And, as for the ex wife, well there is a cousin who incidentally looks exactly like Obama waiting to comfort her back home in the motherland!
